


You said 'Forever'

by WithYouTillTheEndOfTheShield



Series: Radio Silence [10]
Category: Alien Series, Aliens (1986)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Infidelity, Marriage, Miscarriage, Past Character Death, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-04
Updated: 2015-07-04
Packaged: 2018-04-07 15:15:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4268136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WithYouTillTheEndOfTheShield/pseuds/WithYouTillTheEndOfTheShield
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nothing could end well after LV-426.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You said 'Forever'

Hicks hadn't been inside the nursery since he'd gotten back from rushing Dana to the hospital. That night, after the drugs and IV and entire ordeal had made her too drowsy to even recognise him, he'd left her room, told the doctors to contact him if anything changed. And then he went home. 

The nursery was half painted. When Dana had finally told him she was pregnant he'd started clearing the spare room the next day, before going out with her and buying about twenty different shades of tester paint. When he'd gotten back they'd painted a little of each on the wall to choose their favourite. When they'd finally settled on a nice neutral colour that they both liked, Hicks had gone out to buy more of it, and bit by bit they'd started to paint the walls. 

The crib was still in there, the one he'd managed to get cheap from a friend of a friend of a friend. There was one stuffed bear in the corner of the crib, waiting to be chewed and have its fur drooled on. He stood outside the door, not wanting to go in. Because now the room would just gather dust. No-one was going to fill it. No-one was going to wake him up screaming and crying at one o'clock in the morning. No-one was going to come down with one hundred and one diseases before their first birthday. No-one was going to beg him for one last bed time story. 

Eventually, he forced himself to walk into the room, pass by the crib, the bear. Side step the tub of paint, still half full. He crossed the room to the far wall, ran his fingers along the line where the fresh paint, the light colour they'd selected ended, and the old paint they hadn't yet covered began. Painting had been therapeutic for both of them, something to do when it had been a long day, or Adams had been having a particularly rough time with them. 

He didn't stay in the nursery long after that. Just turned and left, pulled the door to before going to the bedroom. He didn't even fall onto the bed to sleep, he knew there would still be blood from when Dana had woken him up crying in pain a few hours before. Instead he curled up at the foot of the bed, and lay awake on his side, staring blankly into space until the sun came up and he decided to drag himself back to the hospital. 

 

Now, ten months after that night, he was back in the nursery. Back staring at the still-pristine bear and the half painted wall. He stepped inside, feeling like he was intruding on something by even being there, breaking the stillness. His steps were slow as he approached the crib, and then, hesitantly, he dipped his hand into the crib to pick up the bear, soft fur slipping against his fingers as he picked it up and gave it a small, affectionate squeeze, before taking it with him as he headed out of the room again, closing the door with a click behind him. 

His suitcase was still open on the bed, where he'd left it. He'd packed a few shirts and pants, any clothes that he really particularly liked. A few books he enjoyed, some photos and a couple of other things he'd found around the house that belonged to him. The closet door was wide open, a few of Dana's pants that had gotten caught in his hands were strewn across the floor. The drawers on the vanity were still open from where he'd searched for the expensive cuff-links he'd worn for the wedding, the ones buried under random crap they'd both stowed away. 

The bear was placed on top of everything else in his suitcase, and he sank onto the bed slowly, staring around the bedroom, and finally looking at his wedding ring. He didn't know why he still wore it. He hadn't spoken to Dana in three days, and he'd only seen her briefly around the house. He knew she'd been sleeping in the house, in the bed next to him, because the sheets were rumpled or thrown back on her side of the bed when he woke up, even though he could never remember her crawling into bed. She'd stopped wearing hers months ago, not long after he'd brought her back from the Hospital. 

Their wedding photo was still on the bedside table, but he'd turned it away from the bed so he didn't have to wake up to it. The two of them were happy, smiling at each other and hugging tightly. That was back when things had been bearable, when they'd still both had good days. When Adams had had good days. 

 

 

After Hudson died on LV-426, along with most of the other marines from the  _Sulaco_ , Adams had changed. At first, none of them thought anything of it. She'd lost the man she loved, she had every right to curl up at night and cry herself to sleep. But even after they were all discharged from the hospital and their recoveries were well underway, Adams didn't get any better. If anything, she got worse. Became erratic, unresponsive. Newt had decided to live with her when they all got settled - Ripley had decided not to go back to Earth once they were discharged, but it was where Newt preferred to be, so she stayed with Adams. And for a while, despite the depression, things were fine. 

Then they began to find the bottles of alcohol, tucked not-so-discreetly into corners. Dana became worried, especially after Adams stopped responding to her phone calls, stopped talking to her. She was worried, terrified even, that she was losing her best friend. 

They'd managed to get Adams help. It had been a joint effort, between him and Dana and Newt, but they'd gotten her help. The therapy had made things better, the pills too. But then within a few months she was drinking again, and Newt was back at their door telling them she was scared. They'd taken her in, tried to help Adams again, but it had been difficult, nearly too late. 

Somewhere amongst the mess of trying to help Adams, Dana had found out she was pregnant. They'd used it as an escape. They'd indulged in it, in the new life, in the child they were going to raise together. Decorating the nursery, getting scans done, choosing baby names, all of it had been a distraction from the horror they new they had to help Adams through, the nightmare she was trying to live in. 

But then Adams stopped taking her meds, and she got worse again. And this time there was nothing they could do. No way they could help. No way they could stop her. And after hearing her crying when he found her, Hicks wasn't totally sure that saving her was the best option for her. After everything she'd been through, losing Hudson, after the horror of having to try and go on without him, he wasn't entirely convinced that keeping her alive was the best option for her, even though it sickened him to think about. 

Newt had gone into foster care after that, told them that she cared about them both, but she couldn't be around them. They reminded her too much of the planet, of her parents, of Adams. 

For about a month after that, they seemed to be alright. Scarred, horrified, distraught, but surviving. And then Dana woke up crying in pain in the middle of the night, and for a few seconds Hicks thought she was going into labour. But it was months too soon, and from the blood he felt when he helped her out of bed and carried her to the car, he knew something was wrong. 

 

Straight away, Hicks knew something was wrong. She'd had a difficult few months, and when she'd wanted to do nothing more than lay in bed and stare at the walls for hours he'd brought her food and sat with her, tried to talk but backed off when she said she wanted to be alone. 

But then it was two months after she'd come home from the Hospital, and she still wasn't talking to him, not like she used to. She pushed him away when he hugged her, snapped at him when he tried to talk to her, argued back when he suggested they try for another baby. Nothing he could say would get through to her. It seemed like the more he pushed, the faster she backed away from him. 

They stopped talking entirely. In the mornings when they'd wake up, they wouldn't look at each other, would just grab their clothes and get out of the room. They avoided each other, and she seemed uncomfortable whenever they were in the same room for more than a few minutes at a time. 

What really broke his heart though, was the first time he caught her with someone else. She'd told him she was going out for the night, as bluntly as possible as she'd walked out the door. So, later that night he'd decided to go out to the bar himself. 

He wished he hadn't. 

He almost didn't recognise her. She was on the dancefloor, grinding on a stranger. And she looked more alive than she had done in months, more alert, like she was finally doing something with a passion. Once he recognised her, horrified, he'd stood up to try and talk to her, but she'd seen him, and instead she grabbed the stranger's hand, and disappeared through the door. 

They didn't say anything to each other about it that night when they were both laying next to each other in bed. Instead, Hicks just fell asleep listening to her soft breathing, feeling her slip further away from him with each little huff of breath. 

 

It had gotten steadily worse over the months. Dana hadn't bothered keeping it a secret from him, even bragging about it to him several times, just to see the reaction she knew she'd get. Sometimes she even brought them back to the house, and when Hicks came into the bedroom he could smell it in the air. It made him feel sick, gave him that little ache in his chest that hurt more and more with each passing day. 

And now he couldn't take it any more. He couldn't watch his wife spiral downwards like this any more. He couldn't watch her hate him, couldn't stick around long enough to start hating her. So that night, after she'd left (presumably to go back to the bar), he'd taken his suitcase down from the loft, and started packing his things. But she was back. She wasn't supposed to be back. 

 

The bedroom door was pushed open, and Dana stepped in, her movements a little slower, notably clouded by alcohol. She stared at him, a little unfocused for a second. And then she saw the suitcase. "You're leaving."

It wasn't a question. He stood up, putting the wedding photo on top of the pile of clothes along with the bear. "Yes."

She pursed her lips, leaning heavily on the doorframe, her eyes hooded. "You hate me, don't you?"

He decided it was best not to answer, and instead turned back to the suitcase, squishing the bear down a little so it would fit in. He swallowed hard as he zipped it up. It was final now. His things were in there. It was settled. 

"Answer me." Dana spat. "Dwayne!"

"Why should I?" He asked coldly. "You never answer me."

He turned back to her as she walked into the room, trying to size him up despite the considerable height difference between them. "I'm still your wife, you know."

"Where's your ring?" He motioned to her empty finger, and for a second, she didn't have a reply, couldn't think of one. 

"Fuck you."

"I thought you preferred fucking strangers." He pushed past her to grab his coat from the closet. 

"You're such an asshole." She snapped, and as he reached around in the closet he heard a zipper being pulled. He turned back into the room just in time to see Dana open up his suitcase and tip the contents back out onto the carpet. 

"Dana!" He snatched his coat off its hook and crossed back into the room. "What the fuck are you doing?!"

She tossed the now empty suitcase into the corner of the room, breathing  hard. "Now you can't leave. You can't go."

"Why do you even care?! Is this what you want? Is your goal to make me  _miserable_?"

He'd gone further into the room, stepped over so that they were face to face and he could stare down at her, look at her more closely than he had done in months. Her jaw was clenched, a muscle jumping when she swallowed. 

"Answer me." He snapped, mimicking her words from earlier. "I'm still your husband, you know."

"I hate you."

The words stung, and for a second Hicks was thrown off. Of course he'd thought she did, with everything she was doing, pushing him away. But she'd never said it out loud, never spat it in his face. 

"I wish I'd never married you."

His words had completely the opposite effect on her than what he'd expected. He'd thought she'd back off, step away from him, leave so he could re-pack his bag. Instead she grabbed the front of his shirt and kissed him, pulling him down a little to her height so she could wrap her arms around his neck. For a second he did nothing, the feel of her lips against his shocked him into freezing on the spot. And then he grabbed the sleeves of her leather jacket, knocked her arms away from him, and pulled it off her. 

She tugged at his shirt, lifting it over his head and then grabbing at her own, tossing it over by his suitcase just before he grabbed her by the hips, pushing at them so he could back her up against the wall. He slammed her into it, crushing his mouth against hers and smirking at her whimper as he wrapped her legs around her waist. He knew she'd have bruises the next morning, knew that when she scratched her nails up and down his back they'd draw blood and he'd have marks too. But a part of him wanted that. The part that lay awake some nights waiting for her to stumble in after another fling. The part that wanted to follow her every night, find the guy she was sleeping with, and beat him senseless. The jealous, possessive, angry part of him. And when she tugged at his belt with one hand, pulled away from the kiss so she could whisper in his ear that she wanted him to fuck her he obliged without complaint. Because this was what those men had gotten instead of him. For ten months she'd been finding other men to get this close to, instead of him. 

And he planned to get his last ten months worth of sex. 

 

The next morning his body ached. Tiny, sharp pains ran up and down his back, and his mouth felt tender. When he looked over, the other side of the bed was empty, but Dana was sat at the vanity, staring at him, playing with something in her hands. For a few seconds neither of them spoke, but then she broke the silence. 

"I wanted to hurt you."

He sat up so he could look at her more clearly. "You succeeded."

"I know." She swallowed hard, looking down at her hands. "After the baby... I didn't want to talk to you. Because talking to you reminded me of - of everything. And I didn't want to try again. I didn't, I wanted the baby we were going to have." He could hear her voice wavering as she spoke. "And it hurt so much. And you didn't - you were fine." Finally, she looked up at him. "I wanted you to feel as bad as I did."

Hicks drew in a shaky breath. "I did. I always did, Dana. But I didn't just lose the baby. I lost you too."

She nodded, tears sparkling in her eyes, looking back at her hands. "I fucked this up."

"Yeah." He said, frowning. "You did."

"I don't hate you." She managed to choke out, and Hicks heard a sob. "And I'm so sorry."

He threw the covers off and padded across the room to her, crouching down in front of the chair. "I don't wish I'd never married you."

"You must hate me now though." She said shakily, tears rolling down her cheeks and dropping onto her legs. He took both her hands in his, squeezing them gently. As he did, he felt cold metal against his hand, and looked down. 

She was holding her wedding ring. 

"I thought you got rid of this." He said, surprised. 

"I couldn't." She admitted, twisting uncomfortably in her seat. Hicks nodded, standing up and looking around the room. His clothes were still in a pile on the floor, his suitcase thrown into the corner. Other various items of clothing from the night before were strewn around the room - their shirts, pants and underwear. Behind him on the chair, she spoke again. 

"Are you still going to leave?"

"Do you want me to?" He turned back to her. She was shaking her head. 

"I shouldn't have done this to you, Dwayne. I shouldn't have made you feel like this. Made you want to leave."

"You made me feel like I was losing you too, Dana. Made me feel like I'd already lost you."

She licked her lip slowly, raising her eyes to look at him. "Do you want to... Maybe try this again?"

Hicks sighed. That was, honestly, the only thing he wanted. He just wanted her back. But looking at her now, the only thing she could see was everything she'd done to him in the past ten months. All that pain, all those nights he'd felt himself going crazy. "I can't."

She didn't say anything when he turned away from her. Didn't speak as he packed his suitcase again. And when he put his wedding ring on the bedside table, she apologised again. For a few seconds he paused at the doorway, wanting to just turn around and kiss her one last time. But he knew that if he did that, he'd never be able to bring himself to leave. 

"Goodbye, Dana."


End file.
